


Peter Parker

by canonismybitch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Coming Out, Gen, Platonic Soulmates, Sensory Overload, Sleepy Peter Parker, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26724535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canonismybitch/pseuds/canonismybitch
Summary: Peter thinks soulmates are stupid.Really, had the universe not thought about a better way to fuck half the population over? He remembered asking May one day, on his tenth birthday, why there wasn’t a name written on his skin like Ben’s was in hers.“Oh, sweetie. That’s because, somewhere out there, your soulmate has your name written somewhere on their skin. They’ll find you, I’m sure of it.”See? Stupid. Who would want to live not knowing who was their other half until the other magically found them?Not him, that’s for sure.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 15
Kudos: 466
Collections: Marvel, The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange





	Peter Parker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flightoftheseraph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightoftheseraph/gifts).



> Hello hello!!!! I'm your off-holidays secret santa!!! Honestly, I've had this cute little idea in my mind for a while, and when I read your prompts it just fit so well! It's like you read my mind! I really hope you like it!!!!

Peter thinks soulmates are stupid.

Really, had the universe not thought about a better way to fuck half the population over? He remembered asking May one day, on his tenth birthday, why there wasn’t a name written on his skin like Ben’s was in hers.

“Oh, sweetie. That’s because, somewhere out there, your soulmate has  _ your _ name written somewhere on their skin. They’ll find you, I’m sure of it.”

See? Stupid. Who would want to live not knowing who was their other half until the other magically found them?

Not him, that’s for sure.

With time, he’s learned to ignore the fact that there’s no name written anywhere on his flesh, slowly getting used to the idea that if his soulmate ever shows up, it’ll be because they found him, and not the other way around.

Besides, he has more important things to take care of, like school.

[Or Spider-Man.]

If he was being honest with himself, the thought of soulmates often slipped his mind, his thoughts usually filled with homework for school, trying not to get kicked out of Decathlon, and swinging around Queens. He hadn’t crashed into a building for two weeks now, a new personal record.

Of course, there was also the very important Tony Stark matter.

Peter hadn’t had the best start with his mentor, that much he could admit. Sure, Peter had webbed up Captain America ( _ Captain America! _ ) and even managed to catch some punches from the Winter Soldier himself (and actually throw back some! Just how cool was that?!) before Mr. Stark had benched him.

[Excuse him, his late nights of binging Star Wars with Ned had saved their collective asses against Ant-Man, he did  _ not _ deserve that benching, thank you very much.]

Everything had been fine for a while, and then the Ferry Incident ( _ of Doom _ as his best friend liked to add) had happened, and Peter had felt his relationship with Tony shatter to a point where it physically hurt the teenager.

[It had hurt his mentor too, but no one had told him that.]

Peter hated the fact that it had taken a literal building falling down on him for Tony to become a more permanent fixture in his life and his superhero persona.

[ _ His breath comes in short spasms, and there’s a very real struggle for air and precious oxygen that’s managing to escape his grasp. For a moment, he berates himself. Stupid, you know already not to wear your binder in PE, if you actually managed to faint, May is going to kill you. _

_ Then he felt the dust that made it hard for him to open his eyes, and the crushing weight on top of him, and he wished to be in his PE class. _ ]

* * *

Things had gotten better after that. 

Peter had unknowingly blown a place in the Avengers, sure, but things were really  _ alright _ between him and Mr. Stark.

His mentor picked him up from school once a week –him, not Happy, just the two of them listening to AC/DC and Peter relentlessly teasing Tony with  _ Led Zeppelin– _ , they worked in the billionaire’s personal lab whenever they got the chance (and Peter had definitely  _ not _ taken a sip of motor oil smoothie the first time, despite Mr. Stark saying otherwise); hell, Peter had even gotten his own internship! Paid and everything!

Peter didn’t want to ruin what they had.

A part of him knew he was being a  _ tiny _ bit stupid (and its voice sounded exactly like May’s but he was going to ignore that). Logically, he knew that Mr. Stark wasn’t stupid, and that if he chose to tell him, the avenger would most likely give him a clap on the back and then ask him to hand over a screwdriver or two.

He’d been subject to enough college stories from the numerous times Colonel Rhodes had stopped by the Tower with a bottle of whiskey in his hands, Peter  _ knew _ about all the boyfriends Mr. Stark had had during his MIT years, but this was just  _ different _ .

Hell, Mr. Stark never called him by the name written in all the official documentation at school and on his internship papers. For him, it was always a combination of spider-kid, brat, and a very rare  _ Sole _ that always managed to warm his heart; but never anything else.

Peter was insanely grateful for that.

* * *

May had grown used to the fact that Peter devoured his breakfast in the mornings when she had enough time to eat with him. It was just his spider metabolism making an appearance, and she honestly preferred it over the more taxing side effects of the spider bite (looking at you, superhearing).

So, when her nephew kept playing around with the chocolate chip pancakes on his plate instead of actually eating them… well, an aunt could only be concerned.

Still, May knew her nephew, and pressing him to talk about anything that was bothering him would only work to make him more ansty and close himself off. So she waited.

She didn’t have to wait for long.

“I want to tell Mr. Stark… about me.”

May hummed, smiling behind the rim of her favorite coffee mug.

* * *

Peter’s plan had been perfect.

He had managed to come up with a new formula for his webs during chemistry, and it was the perfect excuse to get him and Mr. Stark alone for a couple of hours doing work at the lab. Best case scenario, Peter would be handing his mentor the screwdriver he always pictured in his mind. 

[Worst case scenario? Well, he could always swing out of the very convenient balcony in the Tower.]

He had even prepared a whole new playlist that he just  _ knew _ Mr. Stark would like. Peter had even done a deep ( _ veeeery deep _ ) dive into the scary and spooky place that was YouTube in order to find some music in Italian that his mentor would appreciate.

Peter should have known that the stress of telling Mr. Stark combined with his spidey powers would not be a good mix.

* * *

The bell outside his classroom was out to get him, Peter was sure of it. An evil being had manipulated it during the night so its ringing would bother his super senses all day long, just to spite him. 

His skull felt like it could break open at any moment, his brain inflating like a balloon and pressing insistently against his ears and the back of his eyes. No amount of painkillers Ned had been able to produce from his backpack helped him, and it took everything in his power to not let go of the little breakfast he had managed to eat that morning every time the stupid bell rang.

Flash hadn’t even thrown spitballs at him all day.

And really, Peter would’ve been fine. Senses dialed up to eleven weren’t unusual, and both him and Ned had learned the hard way to be prepared with sound-blocking headphones and the darkest sunglasses available at Target. There should’ve been absolutely  _ no problem _ .

It was the stupid fire drill’s fault.

Right in the middle of a presentation on photosynthesis (Peter was totally not falling asleep, who told you that?), the shrillest, most annoying sound Peter’s ears had ever heard resounded through the room.

[How could he had been so stupid to not think a fire drill could happen? It had been almost a full 8 months since the spider bite, one was bound to happen. Stupid.]

His hands flew to his ears in a desperate attempt to block out the horrible noise  _ that just wouldn’t stop _ , though it didn’t do him any favors. He could feel someone’s hands trying to pull him up by his hoodie –(and when, exactly, had he fallen?. It was Ned, dragging Peter to his feet and into the single file their teacher was trying (and failing) to form so they could all move outside.

One moment he was half-standing, half-leaning on his best friend in their classroom, and the next he was outside. The sun was mercifully hidden by a couple of clouds, but the air was chilly for just his thin hoodie, and the ringing in his ears  _ would not stop _ .

One blink.

His knees touched the ground, his arms desperately grappling for Ned’s arms as if he was a bar of soap in the shower.

He blinked again.

A teacher was talking to him while they moved to the (thankfully) quiet hallway. 

When had he started moving?

Blink.

There was something uncomfortably hot against his forehead. A hand?

The school’s nurse.

Blink.

Someone talking on the phone.

Blink.

Mr. Stark.

* * *

Wait, Mr. Stark?

* * *

Tony knew he had agreed with May to be added to the kid’s emergency contact list if anything were to happen, he just didn’t expect the school to actually call him.

He had sped through Queens like his car was the only one in the whole of New York, the kid’s Spotify playlist the only thing he could hear other than blood rushing through his ears.

Was he being a little overly dramatic? Probably.

Still, when he arrived at the school nurse’s office, he couldn’t help but be glad he had decided to go  _ way _ over the speed limit.

The kid didn’t look good.

Tony didn’t even know that he was kneeling in front of the pale-faced teenager until his knees made contact with the floor.

“Mr. Stark?” the kid’s voice was rough, barely a whisper that he wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been waiting for it.

“Hey, Sole. You gave your teacher quite the scare there, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand?” his kid smiled faintly at the nickname that he reserved only for special occasions, and nodded.

Tony carried him to the car.

The whole ride was void of any music, the only sounds Tony could listen to were the spider-kid’s mumbles about school bells and how they were out to get him.

(Well, the kid wasn’t wrong.)

In the end, the avenger also ended up carrying his intern to the penthouse, the poor teenager too exhausted from the sensory overload, and his impromptu nap on the car for his legs to be of much use.

The spider kid had slipped out of his arms to hug the throw pillow on the couch the second Tony had leaned to deposit him and leave him to sleep.

[He made a mental note to buy an Iron Man plushie and leave it on the couch for later.]

* * *

Peter wakes up to a wet towel on his forehead, headphones over his ears, and a pillow clutched in his arms.

Oh, and a billionaire staring at him from his place on the couch facing his own, phone in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hey, Sole. You scared me back there. Your spidey powers not behaving?”

Peter nodded his head, making grabby hands at the glass of water in his mentor’s hand. Tony used the small moment to keep questioning his kid.

"Kid…"

Or, at least, he tried to.

"My name's Peter." Peter blurted out, before his mentor could say anything else. In his mind, it was now or never.

[His plan was ruined anyways]

Tony looked like someone had punched all the air out of his lungs.

"I… my name's Peter, Mr. Stark. Peter Parker."

Peter couldn't look at his mentor in the eye, too terrified of whatever emotion he would be able to see on his face.

"I'm a boy, and my name is Peter. I… I've wanted to tell you for a while now, but I've never been brave enough, and I had this  _ whole thing _ planned! We were going to be in the lab fixing one of my web formulas, and I had a  _ playlist _ and everything! But then I had to spit it out like an idiot, and–! Mr. Stark?"

His mentor was hugging him.

"Peter. Peter,  _ Peter, Peter– _ !"

Tony's hands wrapped around his shoulders carefully, pulling him closer and squeezing tighter every time he said his name.

[This was so much better than a pat on the back and a request to pass him a screwdriver.]

* * *

Tony didn't let go of him until his back started protesting the awkward position he had found himself in.

His face was so bright when he looked at Peter, tear traveling through the wrinkles surrounding his eyes as if they were water slides.

Before Peter could open his mouth to speak, tears stuck on the back of his throat as they were, his mentor beat him to it.

Tony took off his wristband, the thick one made of leather that always covered his skin.

Two words written in the same handwriting that adorned all his notes stared back at him.

_ Peter Parker _ .

Tony smiles at him like he put the sun the avenger names him as up in the sky, and then hugs him again.

“I found you, kid.”

* * *

So maybe soulmates weren't as stupid as he had thought...


End file.
